


Red Roses and Rousing Rumours

by dracogotgame



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Misunderstandings, Secret Admirer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2019-03-27 23:10:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13891116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracogotgame/pseuds/dracogotgame
Summary: Draco's taste for rose water tea puts him in hot water.





	Red Roses and Rousing Rumours

**Author's Note:**

> [Originally posted May 13, 2015](http://dracogotgame.livejournal.com/95608.html)

> _Dear Mr Malfoy_
> 
> _We’d like to extend our thanks for your valued patronage of Gertrude Goshawk’s Gardens and Greens._
> 
> _As requested, please find enclosed a single, long stem rose— fresh as per your exact specifications. Your next order is due to be delivered 9 AM tomorrow morning._
> 
> _Please forward the exact payment with the delivery owl within two hours of..._

 

Draco folded the parchment and stashed it out of sight. A quick glance around the DMLE office confirmed that nobody had noticed his discreet delivery. 

If his childish co-workers ever discovered that he was buying himself flowers, he would never hear the end of it. Weasley would probably self combust out of sheer glee.

Draco waved the irritating thought away to focus on more important things. A fragrant cup of rose water tea, specifically. He paid the owl, shooed it away and headed to the break room. It was empty, thank Merlin, and Draco had no trouble with steeping the rose petals in hot water until a heady fragrance filled the room.

A few seconds later, he had a piping cup of rose water tea and a much improved disposition. Vaguely, he made a mental note to thank Pansy for lending him that book on edible blooms. This little indulgence— embarrassing as it was— had done wonders for his stress levels. 

He barely snarled at Weasley anymore, he managed a civil conversation with Finnigan every now and then and Potter...

Well, Potter was still an annoying git.

Tea couldn’t solve everything.

With that thought, Draco finished off and rinsed the cup before making his way back to his desk. Nobody batted an eye at his return and he heaved a sigh of relief.

Nobody had noticed.

****

“I noticed,” Hermione remarked, tearing her sandwich into neat, bite sized pieces. “For a Slytherin, he’s not very subtle.”  
  
“Why does he take off to the break room every time he gets one?” Dean wondered aloud.   
  
“Probably for a wank,” Seamus remarked cheerfully, leading to groans of protests and shouts of  _we eat in here, Seamus!_ He ignored them all and shuffled the scraps of parchment. “So, the betting pool is open again. Who’s in the running for Malfoy’s secret admirer? So far we’ve got Terry Finch from International Relations, Colin Boyd from Games and Sports, Matilda Hodge from the Anti Corruption League...”  
  
“For Merlin’s sake!” Ron exclaimed. “Why do we care which sorry sod has the hots for the Ferret? Like we don’t have better things to do with...”  
  
“Just a bit of gambling between work mates, Ron. It’s all in good fun,” Seamus chided. He raised an eyebrow at his sullen colleague. “And why are you so invested in stopping our good time then, hm? Could it be that  _you’re_  the sorry sod?”  
  
“What?!” Ron sputtered, nearly choking on his indignation. “What the...are you out of your bleeding...”  
  
“I’m putting Ron down for five galleons,” Seamus interrupted cheerily. “Any takers? Step right up! That’s Ron Weasley for five galleons!”  
  
“It’s not me!”  
  
“I’ll take that bet.”  
  
**“Mione!”**  
  
“Well, you do spend a lot of time yammering about him. Not as much as Harry of course, but still. Actually Seamus, make it ten galleons.”  
  
“Done! Ten for the lady, who wants to go fifteen?”  
  
“What is wrong with you people?! Mione, I swear I have never...”  
  
“Speaking of Harry,” Seamus interrupted over Ron’s desperate protests. “Who’s betting on him? Because I’ve got some fantastic odds for...”  
  
“Odds for what?”  
  
Seamus whipped around as Harry approached, looking somewhat perplexed at the crowd.   
  
“What’s going on here?” Harry asked.  
  
“Well, that depends,” Seamus replied, smoothly clearing the betting slips away. “How much do you spend on utilities every month? You know, toothpaste, soap, long stem roses...”  
  
“Long stem roses?” Harry echoed.   
  
“Like the ones Malfoy’s been getting,” Hermione clarified.  
  
Harry blinked in surprise. “Malfoy got flowers?”  
  
“We think a secret admirer is afoot,” Seamus reported. “Ron’s our top contender today, but he’s got some fantastic competition.”  
  
“It’s not me!” Ron shrieked again. “It’s  **not!”**  he added when Harry gave him a sour look.  
  
“But Malfoy has been getting flowers,” Harry clarified. “From someone? Every...every day?”  
  
“I’m surprised you haven’t noticed,” Hermione said speculatively. Considering how much Harry stared at him, he should have been the first to know. Then again, denial was so much more than a river in Egypt with that boy.  
  
“I guess...I didn’t really think about...” Harry trailed off and ran a flustered hand through his hair. “Every day?”  
  
“Every day,” Seamus confirmed. “So, care to place a bet?”  
  
“I...um, no,” Harry mumbled, backing away. “Excuse me, I need to...do something. Yeah. Bye.”  
  
They watched as he practically bolted out, leaving them in the dust.   
  
“So,” Seamus piped up, breaking the silence. “Does anyone want to bet on the next big office romance? Oh, and on a totally unrelated note— tough luck, Ron. Can’t win ‘em all, yeah?”  
  
Ron groaned and hid his face in his hands.

****

Draco blinked in surprise as he returned to his desk, only to find Potter in his office. Potter, who was rocking on the balls of his feet and holding, what  _appeared_  to be black orchids.  
  
And judging by the sheer volume Potter was lugging about, they were all the black orchids in the world.  
  
“What in the...” Draco began before trailing off. “Potter, what’s going on?”  
  
Potter shuffled sheepishly and shouldered his behemoth of a bouquet. “I figured I had some catching up to do,” he explained.  
  
Draco just blinked, utterly lost for once. “Catching up,” he repeated slowly, as if that would make it any clearer. “And what does that mean, exactly?”  
  
Potter’s jaw tightened. “Look, Malfoy,” he began, “I know we’ve not always got along but we’ve grown up since Hogwarts. And yeah, maybe I’m not always on top of things but I think...I’d  _like_  to think I know you better than some random bloke off the street. For example, I know you prefer black orchids to roses because you picked some that one time we went on a raid together...”  
  
Draco recalled that. He’d picked the flowers as a gift for Mother. That was a year ago. Did Potter actually  _remember_ that?  
  
“...so I guess what I’m saying is, it’s your choice of course.” Potter paused his prattling for a second and took a deep breath, lifting his chin in stubborn determination. “But I think you and I make a lot more sense than someone who doesn’t even know how much you hate clichés. I mean, come on! Long stem roses? He doesn’t know you like I do, Malfoy. And...and I don’t think he ever could.”  
  
Long stem...oh.   
  
Oh no.  
  
Draco swallowed audibly, suddenly very aware of the blush of mortification rising to his cheeks.   
  
Potter thought...he had assumed that...  
  
“So dump the prat and go out with me instead,” Potter finished succinctly. “Oh, and here,” he added, pushing the orchids into a stunned Draco’s arms. “These are for you. They suit you more than ruddy  _roses._ ”  
  
“Uh, thank you,” Draco managed, trying not to stagger under the weight of the gift. “Potter, not that I’m not flattered,” he ventured cautiously. “And frankly, a little alarmed but I’m not sure if...”  
  
“Draco.” Potter cut him off and barged right into his personal space, holding Draco’s hand in a gentle but sure grip. Draco’s protests died on his lips as he caught the intensity in those bright, green eyes. “Just one chance,” Potter implored. “Let me show you I’m a better match for you than  _him._ Just one dinner, yeah? Please?”  
  
Draco looked away, unable to handle the sheer  _sincerity_  in Potter’s eyes. The orchids sat proudly on his desk. They really were his favourite. Potter had  _remembered_  that innocuous little detail from Merlin knows how long ago. And then Potter had noticed the roses and immediately made a jump to  _sordid secret admirer_.  
  
It was honestly astounding how someone could be so keenly observant and so ridiculously oblivious at the same time.  
  
Astounding and somewhat endearing, if he was being honest with himself.   
  
“Alright,” Draco found himself saying. “Just one dinner, Potter. And who knows? Maybe you’ll surprise me.”  
  
Potter grinned in delight and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “I look forward to trying,” he replied. “I’ll see you tonight, Draco.”  
  
With that, he left.  
  
A second later, Draco sprang into action. He grabbed a spare parchment and scribbled out a harried message.

> _To:_   _Gertrude Goshawk’s Gardens and Greens._
> 
> _Cancel all future orders until further notice. Effective immediately._
> 
> _Draco Malfoy._

****

Two weeks after their first date, Seamus Finnigan was a wealthy, wealthy man.


End file.
